In the Footsteps of Your Shadow
by Tokyo Nightingale
Summary: Post Kyoto. Tsuzuki's hurting, and everyone's keeping their distance. But is solitude really what he needs? And can Hisoka be the one to break the barrier?


Title: In the Footsteps of your Shadow  
  
Warnings: A little dark, plenty of angst, shounen-ai  
  
Pairings: Hisoka x Tsuzuki - Nothing graphic, just sugary-sap, but if this sort of thing offends you, you might want to take a walk now. That's it .. keep going . actually, you probably want to leave this genre all together; we all seem to be a little shounen-ai crazed here ^.~ Don't bother flaming me about it; I make no excuses and I feel no remorse.  
  
Disclaimer: Sadly, no amount of wishing can make them mine - hence the FAN part in FAN-fiction. Maybe one day someone will pay me to write, but until that day . I work for reviews ^.^ Suing isn't worth the headache; I spent all my money at the Renaissance Faire.  
  
Dedication: This one's for all of you who reviewed my last fic, 'The Secret of Silence'; arigatou a thousand times over to Merigold, for her advice on the honorifics, and Ashen Skies and MusumeMarron, for making my day! You guys are the greatest! ::hands out liberal amounts of pocky, Pepsi, and Tsuzuki plushies::  
  
A/N: Okay, maybe the world didn't need another 'Hisoka comforts Tsuzuki in the aftermath of Kyoto' fic. Yes, hardly original; but I did try to give it a different spin . something a little darker. Did anyone else feel like Hisoka should've said more to Tsuzuki after that whole incident? Feedback, as always, is much appreciated - constructive criticism will be happily considered, flames will be used to burn my POD and AP Chemistry books, and trust me, positive reviews are virtual Prozac. ::waves left-over pocky enticingly:: That said, enjoy!  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
It figured that it would be raining.  
  
He stood alone here in the middle of the empty street, a halo of yellow light falling from the solitary lamp above to pool about the soles of his boots. The collar of his trench coat was turned up and his long bangs obscuring a quiet set of pain-filled eyes. And of course, there was the rain. He thought he must resemble a character in some sad, tragic detective movie.  
  
Or rather, he would've thought that, had he the presence of mind for thought.  
  
But movies could be turned off, forgotten, and their endings were happy. The detective always had someone waiting at the office, a cup of luke-warm coffee and a cloud of stale cigarette smoke to hide behind while his secretary perched on the edge of his desk and murmured soothing words of comfort. There was always a suspect, evidence, clues, a criminal to catch and he the one to do the catching. He was the good-guy, the hero. He brought justice.  
  
He was never the one to bring death. His work didn't cause the tears, or the rain to fall.  
  
It figured that it would be raining.  
  
Tsuzuki leaned back against the concrete barrier running the length of the bridge, his head tilted back slightly and eyes closed against the icy touch of the rain. It was cold, the mid-autumn wind saw to that; gusts of bitter air closed around him like an embrace, arms to hold him tightly, and the heavens had opened up and poured incessant tears to mirror his hurt. But that embrace was shallow, and brought neither warmth nor comfort, and the rain was bitter and hollow and could do nothing to ease the terrible pressure in his chest.  
  
But he was alone, and the tears that had built up inside him, softly drowning his heart and a soul that no longer cared to fight for breath, would not fall. This is the way it was, the way it had been, the way it would always be. There had been a time when the pain was bearable, when he knew that it was a constant of his life but managed to continue on anyway. That time had passed. He could not name the moment, the instant that it had slipped away from his careful hold, but he felt its absence as an oppressive hole in the center of his heart. A black hole, that slowly pulled everything around it, every essence of himself, into the void and the cold and the darkness.  
  
Almost, he had been free of this pain. He had felt the flames licking around him, the terrible heat that promised oblivion and an end to all the suffering. There had been no doubt in his mind that what he was doing was the right thing; after all, what had he to give him pause? No one to hold or to be held by, no redeeming characteristic of sainthood that could save his soul from the ashes of this destruction. It would hurt, and he knew that; but nothing could feel as terrible as the grief he held within. He hadn't been afraid of the fiery oblivion; but he had been afraid, was afraid, of the darkness he saw when he closed his eyes -- the darkness in the eyes of the people whose lives, whose breath, he stole away.  
  
And then, there had been arms around him, a voice calling him back from the edge. Hisoka. His partner. His friend. And at first, it hadn't mattered. This was *his* choice, after all; what right did anyone have to deny him his own death? No one understood. Hisoka didn't understand. Tsuzuki barely understood himself. Things would be better this way, wouldn't they? For everyone. For Hisoka. For Tsuzuki.  
  
But Hisoka didn't see it that way. How could he, with his eyes shut so tightly and his words welling up from the very center of his heart? There was no room for logic, then; reason held no sway, reality mattered not at all. There was only the fire, and the feelings; both of them desperate, both of them desiring different things. Tsuzuki sought an end; Hisoka reached out for a beginning. But could there be beginnings and endings in this circle? Was there choice? Could something that felt so right be so terribly wrong?  
  
In the end, it had been Tatsumi who saved them, who lifted them both from the devouring flames in a sheltering cocoon of shadow. Shadows to keep him from what he desired, darkness to obscure the painfully blinding light.  
  
He supposed there was a measure of irony in that.  
  
And now.what, then? Was there a reason he had been 'saved'? Was there a purpose in him existing another age, another thousand of lifetimes? He had to believe there was, that he wasn't suffering alone for nothing. And yet, try as hard as he might, he couldn't find one. The pain was still there. The blood was still on his hands, the murderers were still engraved upon the fabric of his soul, and he was still alone.  
  
They turned away from him, now. They always did that, when he was hurting the most. Tatsumi, Watari, all of them, they didn't want to mock his grief with empty words of comfort and false assurances. They didn't want to remind him of what had happened. So they kept up their façade of normalcy, of happiness, they buried their concern and let him deal with his pain as he willed. "Just leave him alone," they had told Hisoka, "It's what he wants. It's what is best."  
  
It wasn't what he wanted. But he smiled, and played his part. He had always been a good actor, and it was worth it to see the relief in their eyes. It was worth hiding behind a mask if it brought them some assurance, some comfort. He had always gone out of his way to help his friends.  
  
But who would go out of their way to help him?  
  
Maybe they couldn't see behind his mask, maybe they had no concept of the grief in his heart; not that they tried very hard. It was better not to pry, to leave well-enough alone, if it kept everything normal, right? But what Tsuzuki wanted most in the world right now was for someone to challenge him, someone to call down his act as false, someone to look behind the mask and understand what it was he really felt.  
  
Slowly, Tsuzuki opened his eyes. There was someone standing beside him.  
  
Like the passing of the wind and the ceasing of the rain, Tsuzuki couldn't recall the moment that Hisoka had stopped beside him. He couldn't remember ever hearing footsteps on concrete, or the rustle of his partner's sleeve against his side. He seemed to be having a lot of trouble with the details lately. But what he did know was that Hisoka was there now, his head tilted back as he contemplated the distant stars that had chased the steel- grey clouds from the heavens above.  
  
When Hisoka sensed that mildly perplexed gaze on him he turned his head, quiet emerald meeting misty violet. There was a long stretch of silence then, but somehow it wasn't awkward. Then Hisoka looked away. "I called your house, but you didn't answer," he offered by way of explanation. "Figures that you'd be out here in the middle of the night, standing in the rain. You don't even have an umbrella. Baka." His tone was slightly accusing, but there was no heat to his words.  
  
Lips twisted faintly into a sheepish smile, a habitual reaction to his partner's scolding. The mask slipping back into place. "Gomen, Hisoka.I guess I just wasn't thinking," he apologized affably. Like always.  
  
But for that brief stretch of silence, Hisoka had seen behind his mask; and he wasn't about to be fooled so easily. When his steady gaze returned to Tsuzuki, his expression was one of quiet determination. He wasn't going to run. And he wasn't going to play along.  
  
"You haven't been doing much of that lately, have you? Thinking, I mean," he challenged with a frown. "It's a wonder you haven't broken a leg falling off a cliff somewhere."  
  
Tsuzuki shook his head, another empty apology on the tip of his tongue, but something made him hesitate. Those eerily focused eyes boring with such an intensity into his own were framed by tendrils of wet hair, not damp locks prey to the last offerings of the departing shower, but soaked pieces that had witnessed the full brunt of the late night storm. His jacket was just as wet, unzipped as though it had been hastily thrown about his shoulders, and his pale cheeks were slightly flushed as though he had run a good distance. He was one to talk about forgotten umbrellas. "Is.is something wrong, Hisoka?" he ventured.  
  
The look his partner shot him was so full of hopeless incredulity that he had the grace of feel ashamed, though he knew not what for.  
  
"You're asking *me* if something's wrong." It wasn't a question, and the habitual irritation was back full-force.  
  
"It's just.you said you had tried to call me, and." he trailed off helplessly.  
  
"Yeah, I tired to call you. And you didn't answer. So I went to your house and knocked on your door, but you *still* didn't answer. I went and found your key. The spare one, and let myself in. But you weren't there. So I've been out here for three hours looking for you."  
  
"Why?" Tsuzuki asked, honestly confused and feeling the beginning pangs of alarm. "Is everyone all right?"  
  
Hisoka gave him another one of those looks, hopeless irritation laced with something more. Concern?  
  
"No, everyone's *not* all right," he answered softly, taking a step closer to his partner, head tilted back so he could continue to hold his gaze.  
  
Tsuzuki blinked down at him a moment, deliberately not comprehending, but the honesty in his partner's eyes at last made him look away. ".I'm fine, Hisoka," he said softly.  
  
For weeks, everyone had been content to leave it at that. A nod, a step back, a smile. Maybe a light touch on the shoulder, and then that was that. It reassured them, or at least they acted as though it did, and that was what was important, right?  
  
"Liar."  
  
The flat accusation startled Tsuzuki. "N-nani?"  
  
"You heard me. I called you a liar."  
  
Silence.  
  
"I'm an empath; you can't hide your feelings from me. Not feelings like this - even your block can't keep those out. And even if I weren't an empath.I was there, Tsuzuki. I know what you went through. No one would be okay after that. I.I wouldn't. It's okay."  
  
Still, Tsuzuki was silent, unable to meet his gaze. And Hisoka hesitated.  
  
"I.I have no room to talk, accusing people of running from what they're most afraid of. I feel what you feel, through the empathy, but I don't understand. There's no way I could. And I kept silent these last couple of weeks, because I felt that if you didn't want to talk about it, that was your right. They told me.they told me you'd just want to be left alone, that in a few days you'd be back to normal. But you're not. You smile again, but it doesn't touch your eyes. And.when I called you, when I went to your house and you weren't there, when I couldn't find you.I was afraid. Afraid that we've all been terribly mistaken, and that I was never going to see you again." The last part came out in a rush, as though Hisoka were afraid he was going too far. But he'd said it now, and there it was, hanging between them. It could be a bridge, if Tsuzuki would let it.  
  
How was it that Hisoka managed to say everything he wanted to hear?  
  
"I just needed to go for a walk," he ventured quietly, ultimately shying away from the verbal hand offered to him. "To think. That's all." Hisoka bit his lower lip, frowning down at the wet concrete. Should he press his partner, right here and now? He didn't want to talk. That much was apparent. And yet.he had seen the look on his face when he'd first opened his eyes, before he had had time to slam the barriers back down in place. At last, gathering the remainder of his resolve, he looked up and held his partner's pained gaze tightly within his own.  
  
"It's so like you to consider everyone else's feelings above your own," he started softly, bolding aiming right at the core of Tsuzuki's defense. "Even when you're hurting this much. But you don't have to be okay all the time. You don't have to be happy all the time. You're *human*, Tsuzuki. And *humans* aren't okay all of the time." Tsuzuki didn't miss the soft accent on that one word. "We hurt and bleed. We get upset sometimes, and angry, too. And that's okay. If you want to get mad, get mad. If you want to cry, then cry. It's all right."  
  
"No," Tsuzuki whispered faintly, bowing his head until the shadows obscured his pained eyes. "It's not all right. Because if I give in to it.if I acknowledge it.then it.it never ends."  
  
"It *will* end," Hisoka argued gently. "Even the darkest night can't last forever. I learned that here. I learned that from you."  
  
"No.I've been lost too long.too far in the shadows. Once you cross that point, you can't.there is no going back."  
  
"The shadows are always hounding your steps, everywhere you turn, they're there, watching you and waiting. But." Hisoka swallowed hard, determined to speak the words no matter how tenaciously they clung in his throat. "I'm right behind you, too. Maybe not as close as the shadows, but.if not, well, then I'm right in their footsteps. You're a little lost right now. So am I. It's never too late to find your way back, Tsuzuki. And we'll.well, we'll do it together. If you'll trust me. If you'll help me. I know we can find the way. If we don't have to do it alone." Tenatively, Hisoka reached out and placed a hand on Tsuzuki's arm. ".Tsuzuki?"  
  
"I.I don't know if I'm ready to do that, Hisoka," Tsuzuki stammered uncertainly, his voice hitching slightly. "I don't know if I have the strength for it."  
  
"It doesn't have to be today. Or, or even tomorrow. Or the day after that. When you're ready, Tsuzuki. I don't mind waiting. Just.one step at a time. When you're ready."  
  
In one surge of movement, Tsuzuki stepped forward and closed the remaining gap between them, enfolding Hisoka in his arms and burying his face in the crook of his neck. Hisoka stiffened in surprise, but gradually he relaxed and slid his own arms around his partner, holding him tightly as best he could. He didn't cry; not at first.  
  
"It could be a while," he whispered after a pause, his voice muffled against Hisoka's jacket. ".That's okay," Hisoka murmered back, closing his eyes as he felt the relief welling up inside of him. "I can wait. As long as it takes. Forever." And he meant it.  
  
".They all say things like that. But then they all leave."  
  
"Not this time," Hisoka promised, tightening his hold. "What have I got, put time?" He smiled softly. A true, genuine smile. Tsuzuki couldn't see it, but he heard it in his tone, and that counted for something.  
  
The storm was hardly passed, but they'd weather it together. And somehow, they'd outrun the shadows dogging their steps.  
  
A/N: Okay..this turned out a lot fluffier and a lot more pointless than I intended.I may revise yet, if the time arises. But review anyway, and let me know what you think, ne? ^.^ 


End file.
